Here is the complete translation of the excerpt:
The young Charles Xavier wore an oversized pair of black-rimmed glasses that nearly covered half his face, making him look even younger and more like a student. Coupled with the large stack of books he was holding, he seemed every bit the quintessential college student who spent all day in the library.
However, considering he was poring over Shiller's early memories, the scene naturally carried a weight far detached from the casual vibe of his attire.
"Good morning, or perhaps afternoon, Doctor," Charles adjusted his glasses and walked over. "Is there something you need?"
Shiller didn't bother to emphasize that he wasn't the doctor Charles was familiar with—it seemed pointless. After all, the Charles residing in his tower was only a fragment of a brainwave, essentially a type of automated process without emotional inclinations, addressing matters as needed.
"In the coming days, a small-scale war to repel an alien invasion might erupt in my universe. We're in need of a psychic communicator to act as a liaison. Do you happen to be available?"
Charles carried his stack of books to the table and set them down before replying, "The brainwave fragment I left here doesn't possess strong psychic abilities. It can still facilitate mind communication, but its offensive and defensive capabilities are limited."
"That's sufficient," Shiller said. "If you're too powerful, certain individuals might feel uneasy."
"No problem." Charles's tone was exceptionally calm, carrying an almost mechanical, cold elegance. He agreed immediately and then continued, "I lack a physical form and exist purely as a brainwave – more akin to what people commonly describe as a ghost. If you're comfortable with that, I believe I can be of assistance."
"Will losing this brainwave fragment harm you?"
"I have already lost this brainwave fragment," Charles replied. "Separated by the barrier of worlds, I cannot sense my physical self at all. I'm merely functioning according to the operational logic it left behind, one of which is to cooperate with you as much as possible."
Shiller nodded and said, "I sincerely appreciate your generosity, Professor Xavier. Should I escort you to Metropolis?"
"No need. I can also attach myself to other people's brainwaves to carry out tasks. From your recent memory, I gleaned that two of your students are heading to Metropolis by car; I'll accompany them."
"Alright, thank you. But I hope you don't frighten them."
"I won't. I'll do my best to keep them calm."
Driving toward Gotham, Batman and Superman arrived before dawn. To avoid attracting attention, neither wore their uniforms. Batman even donned a mask.
Rather than heading straight to Wayne Manor, Batman chose the Wayne Hotel, which was closer to the city's entrance. He planned to rest there and catch up on some sleep before daylight.
Removing his mask, the valet instantly recognized him and eagerly stepped forward to park his car and open the revolving door for him. Batman led Superman into the hotel lobby.
The smiling receptionist at the front desk nodded to him and asked, "Will you still be taking the top-floor suite, sir?"
Bowing to convenience, Batman nodded. He was well aware of which suite this referred to—back in his original universe, the top-floor presidential suite at the Wayne Hotel was always reserved as the best option for its owner.
"Understood. The suite door is unlocked via biometric retinal scan. The elevator is on the right-hand side of the hallway. Should you require any assistance, feel free to call the front desk. Thank you."
"I have a friend staying with me. Please issue another key card," Batman requested. The slight difference in eye color between this universe's Bruce and himself made him wary of potential issues with retina recognition.
"Certainly. Here's your key card. Please take care."
Holding the key card, Batman waved to Superman, and together, they headed toward the elevator.
The presidential suite at the top floor had its own private elevator. Upon entering, the elevator doors opened straight into the suite itself.
What greeted them as the doors parted could only be described as "shock curtain call"—a giant pink inflatable castle was set up in the entryway.
Batman and Superman froze in the elevator for several seconds, too stunned to step out. Could this really not be some elaborate psychic illusion trap set up by a skilled mind power user?
Superman gazed at the pink inflatable castle ahead, then turned to look at Batman, then back at the castle. He managed to blurt out, just barely beating Batman to it, "I won't judge any of your hobbies. You've been under too much pressure lately; honestly, I think it's pretty great."
Batman was momentarily at a loss—whether to curse him or praise him. The bad news: Superman was an absolute devil. The somewhat good news: This devil was actually pretty considerate.
The worse news yet was that this considerate devil truly was devilish—he even flew around the castle and circled it appreciatively, clicking his tongue in awe.
There was no refuting it—this castle was blatantly custom-made. At the top sat a gigantic inflatable Batman puppet, its wings adorned with countless bow ties and draped with cascading fringes, absurdly dreamy.
Beneath the massive Batman puppet sprawled two steep slides, leaning forward at nearly breakneck angles. Off to the sides were curving smaller slides and at the bottom, pink-and-white ocean balls amassed in staggering heaps, flanked by climbing nets and hanging bridges.
Truth be told, the pink inflatable slide castle wasn't ugly. Its adorable color scheme, exquisite craftsmanship, and meticulously thoughtful design undoubtedly made it look insanely fun.
Thus, the devilishly mischievous Superman, after circling the castle, descended behind Batman and, without consulting him, hauled him up.
"Clark, what are you doing?! Put me down!" Batman instinctively shouted.
Superman placed Batman in the center of the castle, right at the slide's starting point, then landed himself beside him and pointed to the left slide. "You go down this one, I'll take the other, and let's see who slides faster."
"Could you possibly be more childish, Clark?"
Superman paid him no mind, promptly lining himself up at the right slide, his eyes nudging Batman to sit down and get on with it.
Reluctantly, Batman sat down, crossed his arms with an annoyed expression, and slid down awkwardly. His stiff posture ensured he wouldn't slide fast whatsoever. Superman, relaxed as ever, had already plunged into the ocean balls by the time Batman was halfway down.
"You lost, Bruce!" Superman laughed heartily from below.
Batman scowled even harder. He unfolded his arms and secretly bent his knees for extra speed. Just as he approached the bottom, Superman inexplicably began pelting ocean balls upward.
"Hey… HEY!!" Batman raised his arms to shield himself.
"Winner's prize!" Superman declared triumphantly.
Grinding his teeth, Batman slid to the bottom and hesitated, poised to retaliate with his own ocean ball barrage—only to realize the "ocean" of ocean balls was vastly deeper than he'd imagined. He plunged right in and, upon standing, found the balls reached up to his chest.
Another baseball-sized ball smacked against his forehead, courtesy of Superman, and Batman reached the limits of his patience. Extending his arm, the claw hook concealed in his sleeve latched onto one of the suite's ceiling beams.
As the grapple pulled taut, Batman sprung upward and delivered a swift kick to Superman's chest, sending them both plummeting together into the ocean balls.
Several minutes later, Batman was hobbling his way up to the highest point of the inflatable castle, where he plopped down by the slide entrance and shouted, "Again!"
Through the suite window, Elsa had just flown in to witness them playing on the inflatable castle and slide for a solid half-hour.
Elsa had actually intended to interrupt them—after all, the inflatable castle was meant to be a farewell gift from Thomas and Martha for Bruce, and he hadn't even had the chance to enjoy playing on it yet before these two interlopers beat him to it. Given Elsa's temperament, this was definitely testing his limits.
However, watching Batman lose to Superman in a sliding competition proved far more entertaining than the castle itself, so Elsa stopped herself from interfering.
Superman noticed Elsa had arrived even before she'd flown in. He wanted to warn Batman but was immediately cut off.
"No, Clark. Don't you dare change the subject. I don't need you to hold back for me. Let's do this again—this time, I'll slide faster than you!"
What else could Superman say? He could only wish Batman luck.
Elsa had come to retrieve something. She'd accidentally left her ice skates behind two days ago, and with skating lessons scheduled later today, she had no choice but to retrieve them in the middle of the night.
After grabbing her skates, she intended to leave but inadvertently shut the cabinet door too loudly, catching Batman's attention. Batman finally managed to extricate himself from the "sea" of ocean balls, tiptoeing into the suite.
As his bat-like gaze met Elsa's slit pupils, he froze, seemingly pondering how a little girl might have wandered in.
But he quickly realized this wasn't just any little girl. Her glowing eyes and razor-sharp teeth, visible in her broad grin, gave that much away.
Batman instinctively backed up two steps, bumping into Superman behind him. He shot an annoyed glance over his shoulder.
"Hello there," Elsa greeted them cheerily before introducing herself. "Elsa Wayne, Bruce Wayne's daughter."
"Ah, you must be this world's Bruce's daughter," Superman said with certainty, having already deduced the resemblance with his super vision despite the dimly-lit room.
Batman, however, struggled to discern more under the darkness—Elsa's luminous features had been far too distracting for him to notice her other traits.
Elsa walked out to the lit entryway, carrying her ice skates, and finally allowing Batman to see her properly.
Bending down slowly, Batman extended a hand toward Elsa. Elsa stepped forward, and Batman patted her head gently. "Is this your room?"
Elsa nodded, then shook her head, glancing toward the window before checking her watch and adding, "You can use it, just don't make too much of a mess. I'm heading home."
Batman was about to ask how she planned to head home so late, but Elsa flew straight out of the window without a second word.
"Wait, I forgot to ask her who her mother is," Batman muttered regretfully, only to start zoning out again as the glowing eyes and shark-like teeth lingered in his memory.
"Didn't you say you need some rest?" Superman nudged him forward. "You've only got a few hours until dawn—you really should go sleep, Batman."
Once inside the suite, Batman finally understood Elsa's ambiguous nodding and shaking earlier.
In one of the bedrooms, the bed was strewn with Batman puppets, surrounded by heaps of children's toys—clearly left untouched amidst chaos—and unmistakably evidenced that the occupants were a mother and child duo.
The second bedroom appeared far more organized, its surfaces tidy, walls adorned with two Hollywood movie posters, and bedside topped with a framed photo of three people.
Given they were impersonating others and using somebody else's room, neither Batman nor Superman intended to disrupt Bruce's family in any way. Instead, they abandoned the master bedroom and squeezed into the second room together.
Only to be clawed across their faces by Selina after breakfast.